A Tale of Soujirou 4: The Answer
by Aaerdan
Summary: Seta Soujirou heads for Kyoto to bury his past, and finds something else as well....


_The characters in this tale belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki. This events in this tale follow those in **The Journey Begins**, **Give and Take** and **Question and Answer**. The tale continues somewhat in **A Tale of Sanosuke: Niigata**. Many thanks for all the constructive feedback!  
  
This story is dedicated to Aredhel  
  
_**_The Answer  
  
_By Daniel Lam  
  
**THE caretaker and his friend looked up from their game of chess at the visitors. It was mid-afternoon - not a popular time for visitors - but then, there are those who do drop by at the oddest of hours.  
  
He was never really good with faces, but he remembered that man. Always with a smile on his face, as if without a care in the world. Most of those who visit the cemetery bore sad faces. Not this one.  
  
"Good afternoon, kind sirs," the man greeted them. "We're here for a visit."  
  
Both caretaker and friend returned the greeting, and the visitors entered the grounds.  
  
"Cheerful man," the friend remarked.  
  
"Yes ... so unusual nowadays, what with the uncertainty and all," the caretaker agreed.  
  
"At least there is peace," the friend said. "Not too many few years ago, these streets were covered in blood, I tell you!"  
  
"Yes, I know," the caretaker responded hurriedly. "I was here with you, remember? Dangerous times, then."  
  
"Yes. Did you hear about the latest murders? Just outside of the city?" the friend persisted. "Horrible ... just like in the old days."  
  
"Pay attention to the game! Don't try to distract me like that!" the caretaker barked.  
  
"Fine, fine! It's my move anyway, right? Here!"  
  
@@@@@  
  
Seta Soujirou rapped on the inn's double doors for a good five minutes before his keen sense of hearing picked up the sound of movement from within. The door opened slightly and an unfriendly face peered through. "We're full up. Go away."  
  
This near to Kyoto, the imperial capital of the country, Soujirou was in no mood to sleep outdoors. Too many ... distractions. Even so, the broad smile never left his face.  
  
"Just for the night, good sir," Soujirou pleaded. "Even a hammock will do."  
  
The doorman regarded the youth's face for a while, then sighed. "Wait here ... I'll see what I can do."  
  
Soujirou bowed. "Thank you, kind sir!"  
  
"Hmmmph!"  
  
Moments later Soujirou found himself in what could at best be described as a servant's quarters, but seemed more like a storeroom that happened to have a hammock. He had little to complain about, really. In the past five years, he had slept in worse places.  
  
_It's just for the night,_ Soujirou thought. _Tomorrow I will accomplish what I came to Kyoto to do.  
  
_He sensed someone approaching. It was the doorman, who brought a blanket.  
  
"You might hear weird sounds later in the night," the doorman said. "Just ignore them." He sounded less gruff than he was earlier.  
  
Soujirou did not know what to make of this, so he merely nodded. He took the blanket, thanking the doorman profusely.  
  
The doorman seemed satisfied with this, and took his leave, closing the door after him. Soujirou blew out the candle and got ready to retire for the night.  
  
As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, Soujirou's thoughts strayed to the events that had taken place recently.  
  
Just two weeks ago, Soujirou had succeeded in getting former Ishin Shishi master assassin Himura Kenshin to destroy Shishio Makoto's sword. It was a symbolic act allowing Soujirou to bury his past and move on with life, searching for the purpose of life itself.  
  
The Mugenjin - the Killing Sword - the lifeless shards of which were in Soujirou's pack, alongside his own katana. He had taken care to wrap both in his spare clothes just before he came to this village on the outskirts of Kyoto. With the sword ban still in force, Soujirou was eager to avoid a confrontation with the authorities.  
  
Not that he was afraid of them ... but he'd rather not be the subject of unnecessary attention.  
  
Suddenly, he heard the first sounds. He could make out a man's voice, yelling at another.  
  
_Must be a regular thing, if the doorman felt it necessary to warn me about it, _Soujirou thought.  
  
There was the sound of someone hitting the ground, followed by what was unmistakably a whimper.  
  
Soujirou sat up immediately. It was the whimper of a girl.  
  
Soujirou went to the door and opened it slightly. He could barely see anything, but now he could hear better. There were at least two men with the girl. It sounded as if they were beating her.  
  
He went to his pack and took out his katana. He left the broken Mugenjin untouched.  
  
Then he opened the door a little wider and stepped out gingerly.  
  
By the well in the courtyard was the girl, perhaps eight or nine years old. Two men, wielding wooden swords, stood on either side of her. A third man was crouching.  
  
As Soujirou watched in horror, the third man cuffed her in the face a few more times. The sound of an open hand striking flesh was jarring indeed.  
  
It reminded him of his days as a foster child with an abusive family.  
  
"Next time I tell you to do something, you do it at once, you hear?" the man was yelling.  
  
The girl seemed to nod. Soujirou waited in the darkness with baited breath, unsure as to what to do. His instincts told him to wait and see.  
  
When the girl made to rise, the man slapped her one more time so hard that the sound made Soujirou cringe. The other men then struck the girl on the hands with their bokken.  
  
Soujirou felt anger rising. He had been beaten like that before. A long, long time ago ... when he was a helpless child, like her.  
  
He was not about to let the men hit her again.  
  
Slowly, deliberately, he took several steps towards them. Both the men who were beating the girl stopped and turned to face him.  
  
That they could sense his approach was evident. These were not ordinary thugs.  
  
"Boss," one of the men muttered. The third man looked up. He rose, pulling the girl to her feet.  
  
"Who are you?" the third man demanded, his eyes on Soujirou's katana. "You are in violation of the sword ban."  
  
When Soujirou did not respond, the two men adopted combat stances.  
  
"Let her go," Soujirou said as he stopped within five feet of them.  
  
The man holding the girl shook her roughly and demanded: "Do you want to go?"  
  
To Soujirou's surprise, the girl shook her head. The man turned to him and sneered. "She knows her place."  
  
"Look away," one of the bokken-wielding men said. "This does not involve you."  
  
"Little miss ... you would stay with these men?" Soujirou asked, addressing the girl.  
  
The girl nodded weakly. With a sigh, Soujirou bowed to the men.  
  
"My apologies ... I shall leave you to your ... business." Soujirou was not smiling as he turned to go.  
  
The sounds of beatings resumed soon after. Soujirou hardly slept a wink that night. 

@@@@@ 

He got up just as the rooster began to crow. He had gotten very little sleep, for what he saw in the night reawakened his old nightmares.  
  
Nightmares of him as a child, being bullied by his foster family, of him slaying his tormentors.  
  
In the courtyard, by the well, was the girl, this time wearing a kimono, drawing water. Beside her were two huge pails.  
  
She jumped when Soujirou came to her side, but she made no sound.  
  
_She must be used to being startled, _Soujirou thought.  
  
Her long sleeves concealed her limbs. Even so, when she stretched to draw water, Soujirou noted the bruises on her arms. A number were obviously old. Last night was not the first time she had been beaten.  
  
When Soujirou made no move to do anything, the girl drew a bucketful of water and laid it at his feet.  
  
"For me?" Soujirou asked, a little surprised. "Thank you, little miss." He splashed his face with the water. It felt good.  
  
When he was done, he drew a bucketful and presented it to her. She took it.  
  
Soujirou waited a little while longer before his curiosity got the better of him. She was already turning to go, the two pails filled up.  
  
"What is your name, little miss?" he asked. "My name is Soujirou."  
  
The girl stopped.  
  
"Yuki," she whispered a while later, blushing, and gave him a hint of a smile before running off.  
  
It was nothing much, but her smile brought a pleasant warmth to his heart.  
  
_It is not a smile brought on as a defence ... but a genuine smile,_ he thought as he watched her run into the kitchen. He waited for her to return. When she did not, he went to the common eating hall.  
  
Breakfast was a simple affair and quickly dispensed with. His mind was not on the food, in any case. Throughout the morning he could see Yuki making regular trips across the courtyard, either to fetch more water or to get something, usually far too big for her size, from the storeroom.  
  
Soujirou made some discrete enquiries, and found out that Yuki was a slave, bought by the innkeeper's family when still little more than an infant, to help with the running of the inn.  
  
_I didn't know that this close to the city such things are still practiced, _he thought grimly, though the smile never left his face.  
  
The man who was manhandling the girl was the innkeeper's only son, a former Ishin Shishi soldier, now a drunkard who was never awake before evening. As for the other two men, no one seemed to know.  
  
_No wonder she took her treatment willingly, _Soujirou thought. _Just as I did all those years ago. I didn't know any better....  
  
_He felt the need to stay on for a few more days at least, and so took up a newly-vacated room in the inn. Alone in his room, Soujirou began to think.  
  
One of the things he had learnt in his wanderings was that the answer to problems did not necessarily lie in the path of violence.  
  
However, _the strong live, the weak die._ Those words, and that _this is a world where the strong feed on the flesh of the weak_, served as the foundation for Shishio's very being.  
  
Though it should not be the case, Soujirou had seen enough, experienced enough, to know that in reality, Shishio's truths were at least mostly right.  
  
_Despite an era of peace brought upon by the Meiji government, the strong continue to prey on the weak. And the weak can only keep their heads low and endure the indignity,_ he thought.  
  
_Just like me to be faced with this ... just when I thought I had succeeded in laying Master Shishio to rest,_ Soujirou mused.  
  
"I cannot save her ... she must do so herself," he muttered a short while later. "But if she is weak ... she will need help. How can I help her, aside from using force?" _How can I help if she does not wish to be helped?  
  
_He left the inn feeling thoroughly depressed but determined to settle his business in Kyoto as soon as possible. It was still late morning, so if he hurried, he could make it back by nightfall.  
  
It was late afternoon when he got to the cemetery. It had been over five years since his last visit, when he arranged for the burial of what remains could be found of Shishio and Komagata Yumi. Because their ashes were mixed, they now shared a common grave.  
  
The cemetery's caretaker sat up as Soujirou stepped past the main gate. Visitors were few this time of day.  
  
"Good afternoon, kind sir," Soujirou said with a smile. "I am here for a visit."  
  
The caretaker nodded. It was not his place to stop anyone from visiting, but to keep the place clean. It had been a boring morning, too. Even so....  
  
"Wait," he called after Soujirou. "You here to pay your respects to someone?"  
  
Soujirou nodded.  
  
"Ahhh. But there is someone else already here ... and he prefers to be alone."  
  
"That's fine, kind sir. I won't bother him," Soujirou said.  
  
"Well, this man tends to bother others," the caretaker explained. "Just thought you should know."  
  
Soujirou bowed. "Thank you for letting me know, kind sir. I'll keep that in mind."  
  
The young man knew where to go. Soujirou sensed the presence of the other man - the one whom the caretaker must have been trying to tell him about - just before he saw him.  
  
He was taller than Soujirou, and wore what must have once been fine clothing - of Chinese design it looked, complete with the straight collar - now thoroughly worn out. But what struck Soujirou most was the man's hair.  
  
Although he did not look to be very old, his hair was snow-white. And he wore eye-glasses, which would have made the man look scholarly if not for the lean frame.  
  
And his aura ... _an almost overwhelming bitterness ... or sadness,_ Soujirou thought. _Almost like Mr Himura's...?  
  
_The man was kneeling when Soujirou neared Shishio and Yumi's grave; he stood up as Soujirou stopped at the foot of the marker.  
  
Soujirou did not sense any malice from the man as he approached. The closer the man came, the stronger Soujirou felt the man's aura.  
  
He immediately realised why the caretaker had said that this man bothered others. His aura would have an unnerving effect on people. Normal people would have been ... afraid.  
  
"You were ... Shishio's right-hand man," the man stated. "Shishio Makoto's assistant."  
  
Soujirou turned. "Yes ... I was." Then, with a smile: "My apologies, but I do not remember you."  
  
The man bowed. "I have seen you ... from the shadows. It was many years ago." He adjusted his glasses. "Six years ago."  
  
Soujirou frowned. He had no wish to discuss his past, at least not with someone he knew nothing about. Even so, he did not feel threatened. But there was something he needed to do first.  
  
"Please excuse me for a moment, kind sir," he said finally. The man nodded and stepped back. Soujirou knelt and bowed to the grave, whispering under his breath as he did so.  
  
When he was done, the white-haired man was still waiting for him.  
  
"Thank you, kind sir, for waiting. I was in a hurry, actually," Soujirou explained. He glanced at Shishio and Yumi's grave. "I had hoped for an answer ... but none were forthcoming."  
  
"An answer?"  
  
"Yes. But it is too much to ask, perhaps," Soujirou said with a smile. "I'll have to find it myself."  
  
The man nodded. There was a moment of silence before he stated: "I too, seek answers. I have found some of them ... others continue to elude me." Then a grin graced his boyish-looking face. "I forget my manners ... I know your name, but you do not know mine."  
  
Soujirou shook his head. His tone was serious even if the smile never left his face: "If you do not wish to tell, I have no wish to know. Some secrets should remain hidden."  
  
The man regarded him for a long time. This made Soujirou uncomfortable. He looked up at the sky. "It is late. I must go."  
  
"A smile is what I seek," the man said finally. "Perhaps it is in a smile that your answer lies."  
  
"A smile?" Soujirou repeated, confused.  
  
"No, not from you. From someone I lost, long ago." The man turned to go. Soujirou pondered this last remark before turning his attention to the grave. When he finally left, the Mugenjin was in its proper place, beside its true owner. 

@@@@@ 

By the time he got back to the inn, it was time for dinner. Again, his thoughts were elsewhere. He ate very little, and retired to his room while the other diners were still calling for more sake.  
  
_A smile, he said._ Soujirou recalled. _All my life I had lived by Master Shishio's truth. Then came Mr Himura, who lives still, to protect the weak.  
  
This is a world where the strong prey on the weak. That means Master Shishio is right. But there are those who live to protect ... to help the weak, which means Mr Himura is right, too.  
  
_He remembered Yuki's smile. It was not much ... but it made him feel warm inside.  
  
_Perhaps ... perhaps it is because she suffers what I had suffered, _he thought. _Her smile means more to me, then, than those of others.  
  
But is it ever so simple? Just a smile?_ he wondered. _I smiled too, through the pain, through the torment ... even after feeling nothing from taking lives....  
  
_He shivered suddenly. He had forgotten to close the window shutters. As he moved to close them, Soujirou heard sounds from the courtyard. He hadn't realised it earlier in the day, but his room overlooked the very place where ... a man was dragging Yuki by her collar right at this moment.  
  
_No, not again!  
  
_"This time you have gone too far, girl! I am going to teach you a lesson you will never forget!" growled the same man from the previous night.  
  
"Please, Mr Takeshi, no!" Yuki pleaded. There was the sound of a clenched fist hitting soft flesh, followed by a cry of pain.  
  
Soujirou backed up against a wall, tears welling up unexpectedly in his eyes as he heard the sounds of more blows falling. Then, sounds grew fainter, and finally, silence.  
  
_Has it ended?_ he wondered.  
  
Then it came. Like a cry from the past.  
  
"Help me, somebody! Please!"  
  
Soujirou remembered it all too well.  
  
"Somebody, please-"  
  
_I cannot let this pass..._ he vowed. _Master Shishio gave me his wakizashi. Yuki ... has nothing._ Aloud: "I _cannot_!"  
  
Katana in hand he jumped out the window, landing softly on the courtyard. The backdoor was still open ... they must have gone that way.  
  
_Killing ki,_ Soujirou thought grimly, sensing it as he followed the clear path out the back into the forest.  
  
He found them soon enough. Yuki lay still against a tree trunk, her clothing scattered about her. Soujirou could not see her face, nor could he tell if she was still alive.  
  
But the men, he could make out. The same three men from the previous night. And that third man - Takeshi - was kicking her even now as he adjusted his garments.  
  
The other two, who were holding torches, must have sensed Soujirou, for they looked in his direction and drew their katana - evidently they too, had conveniently forgotten about the sword ban.  
  
"Boss, it's the youth again," one of the men muttered.  
  
"Eh? This won't do ... lucky us, we're not at the inn now, are we?" Takeshi sniggered. He bent to pick up his own katana and drew it. "I see you're not smiling now."  
  
Soujirou did not reply. His eyes were on the girl ... it was Yuki, indeed. But she was not moving. And he could not sense anything about her ... just the dirty _ki_ of the men who stood before him.  
  
They fanned out as he stood, unmoving.  
  
He had to know. "You killed her."  
  
"What is she to you?" Takeshi asked. "You liked her, too?"  
  
In an instant, the level of killing _ki_ about the men rose. Then, in the corner of his eye, Soujirou saw one of the men nod. Both torches were dropped suddenly, and in the sudden darkness as the torches flickered on the ground, all three men attacked.  
  
Soujirou jumped back, his body tensing as it dropped into a familiar battle stance. With his Shukuchi technique, Soujirou enhanced his already lightning fast speed, which the eye cannot follow, to that which the eye cannot even see.  
  
He never did begin to take pleasure in killing. Even from the first time he took lives, it was spurred by the will to live, the instinct to survive.  
  
This time, Soujirou killed with pleasure.  
  
The two men, as he had suspected earlier, were no ordinary thugs. They managed to block his initial swordthrusts, but only barely. Their eyes widened in shock as they realised they were more than out-matched - an instant before Soujirou ended their lives.  
  
Soujirou turned to face Takeshi.  
  
Takeshi was evidently terrified. His grip on his own katana was weak; he was trembling.  
  
"P-p-please, spare me, great swordsman!" he begged, dropping his sword. Soujirou knew he had to - no, he _wanted_ to - make him suffer. A quick death _this_ man did _not_ deserve.  
  
Soujirou smiled. "Die."  
  
Nothing could have stopped the blade's arc to the man's abdomen. It would have disemboweled him, spilling his insides, ensuring a slow and painful death in the minutes, if not hours, to come. Nothing ... but Yuki's voice.  
  
"Mr ... Soujirou!"  
  
The blade swung clear, cutting nothing but air, for Soujirou jumped back at the sound of her feebly whispering his name.  
  
The anger quickly subsided as he knelt by her. She had been badly beaten ... and perhaps more. Soujirou gathered up her clothes and covered her.  
  
In spite of her obvious pain, Soujirou could see her smile.  
  
Whoever that man at the cemetery was, he was at least partially right. That smile ... brought comfort to Soujirou.  
  
The sound of a katana being picked up alerted him to Takeshi.  
  
_Only a fool would think..._ was Soujirou's immediate thought, but Takeshi was such a fool, who dared to think he could catch the Tenken unawares.  
  
It was without malice that Soujirou split Takeshi in two without even looking at him, before the latter managed a single step. A quick death it was in the end, and more than he deserved.  
  
Yuki felt so small and light in his arms. _Barely skin and bones,_ Soujirou thought as he made his way back to the inn after hastily burying the dead.  
  
Before dawn had arrived, even before the rest of the innkeeper's family had woken up, Soujirou and Yuki - still asleep in his arms - had left.  
  
If he thought it odd that Soujirou would leave with a bigger bundle than he arrived in, the doorman said nothing. But then, his eyes were bleary from drink. 

@@@@@ 

They stood by Shishio and Yumi's grave, heads bowed. Yuki knew not who lay at rest there, but knew enough that they were important to Soujirou.  
  
Soujirou was deep in thought. After a long while, Yuki noted tears flowing down his face, and she reached out to hold his hand.  
  
His eyes opened slowly, and the first thing he saw was her smile.  
  
Soujirou smiled too as he wiped the tears away.  
  
"Let us go, Miss Yuki," he said finally. "We have a long way to go."  
  
Yuki nodded. Together they bid farewell to the caretaker and his friend, and left the cemetery. Hidden from view, behind one of the larger gravestones, the white-haired man watched them leave.  
  
He had seen her smile. 


End file.
